Reminiscence
by Merlin's Quill
Summary: Post-Ootp fic. Shadows of the past and present plague Remus— shadows of Sirius, James, Lily, Harry, and himself. He finds an object that leads him through his thoughts, and he stumbles upon the things he can hide no longer, things he never wanted to acc


**Title:** Reminiscence 

**Author:** Merlin's Quill

**Author's Email: **Merlinsquill@hotmail.com

**Category:** Angst, Drama, Tragedy

**Spoilers:** Includes OotP!

**Rating: **PG, for one-sided slash (thoughts; non-explicit) and some language.

**Summary:** Post-Ootp fic. Shadows of the past and present plague Remus— shadows of Sirius, James, Lily, Harry, and himself. He finds an object that leads him through his thoughts, and he stumbles upon the things he can hide no longer, things he never wanted to accept.

**A/N:** This is a two-part fic. To be nice and vague, the first chapter "sets the scene," and the second chapter (to come, once it has been written) "has the action." It's not just a pointless POV piece. 

I also apologize for any bad formatting due to uploading to ff.net. Italics refer to either memories, letters, or the thoughts of the narrator; some may not have come out. Paragraph indentations may also not work. It appears that ff.net dislikes Microsoft Word...

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Anything not taken from the Harry Potter series, however, belongs to me.

~^-^~

            The old, rickety house seemed to creak and sway dangerously every time the wind howled, its ruthless fists slashing coldly as it swept across the ground. The night was clear and crisp, the sky starless and seemingly distant, detached. The moon's forbidding presence threw an eerie glow on the figures below, illuminating their flitting shadows.

            And shadows there were aplenty. Shadows of half-withered trees; of the crumbling fence; of the swinging shutters; but mostly, haunting shadows of the past.

            Remus Lupin was in the kitchen of his cottage, blank gaze fixed on the wall, unseeing. He had been unable to sleep, and had come down to the kitchen with the idea of making a hot cup of tea for himself. But as he had been searching through the cupboards for a kettle, he instead had chanced upon the thing he now clutched in his hands, and all thoughts of tea had flown away as quickly as they had come.

            The thing was a black dog bowl, etched in gleaming silver with the name _Snuffles_. He had given it to Sirius the past Christmas as a joke, having saved extra expenses for months to be able to custom-make such a thing. Sirius had loved it. How it had turned up to be in his kitchen Remus had no idea, because he could have sworn that Sirius kept it beside his bed in his own house.

            Kept.

            Had kept.

            A dry sob swept through Remus. His hunched shoulders shook with the effort of holding the tears back, his body shuddering convulsively as if he had been skinny dipping in the English Channel in the dead of winter.

            The bowl slipped from his grasp with a soft _thud_, but Remus didn't notice. His face was buried in his hands, eyes closed in the futile effort to stem the tears screaming to be let out. The tears, the hurt, the pain, everything he had been forced to keep bottled inside... it was becoming too much to bear.

            He had pretended to deal with Sirius's death, pasting on a brave face as he gave a quiet, heartfelt eulogy at his funeral. Then he had buried himself behind that mask, hidden so far he was afraid of forgetting it was even a mask, afraid of being buried alive beneath the lies, fading away as he clawed desperately for a nonexistent escape from the fate he had bound himself to. It was self-destructive, he knew, but it was also the only way he could bear to trudge on through the weary, endless days that followed.

            No one saw through his façade; but then again, how could they? He was alone. No one was there to see him stop dead in his tracks at the sound of a dog barking. No one was there to see his pained gaze follow the large black dogs that cruel fate placed directly in his path. No one was there to see him painstakingly pack away all the remnants of Sirius he could find, hiding them in a box in a cowardly attempt to make himself forget. 

            And no one was there to see him open that box every night, despite his vow to himself not to do so. He couldn't forget. It just wasn't that easy; he didn't even think it was possible. No, not Sirius. He was never one to be forgotten.

            No one was there to see him cry himself to sleep, consumed by despair in the dark of the night, awash in the pitying light of the moon.

            No one knew. They all stopped by once in a while, saying hello, and smiling, and asking how he was, and patting him hesitantly on the back, and saying that they were glad to see that he had moved on, and politely turning down his offer of food or drink, and flippantly apologizing as they said they had "pressing business" to take care of and that they had to leave. And then they would wave, saying they would stop by later, leaving with smiles too wide and voices dripping with false cheeriness. And of course, they wouldn't show up for a month or two, which was as long as they thought they could go without seeing him, without appearing too rude. 

            Remus ranted bitterly, his mind echoing with resentment and loneliness (though he'd never admit the latter, of course). No one understood him. He was just Remus, "the one you should pity." Everyone made sure he lived up to his given title, though, he had to give them that. They showered him with so much pity that the whole sodding world could choke and drown on it and there would still be some left over to irrigate Mars for the next few hundred years.

            They didn't understand him, damn them. No one did.

            Well, no one except Harry. Harry was the only one who had any idea of what Remus was going through. His letters were usually brief, echoing with a kind of swallowed pain that was all too familiar. Remus would hungrily read the,— the only true contact he had these days that was free of any pity or pretense— and sit there in silence, seeing Harry's face, hearing his dull voice, seeing the pain and loss written all over his face.

            Hi, Remus. How are you? The Dursleys are okay. They usually just ignore me now. Not that I mind, of course, but it's boring, and lonely. Hermione's on vacation in Spain this year, and she's been so busy learning Spanish that I've only gotten one letter from her. And Ron's letters are always really short. They're either full of pity or excitement over having blocked such-and-such goals in Quidditch practice with his brothers. They're not being great conversationalists, as you can tell.

_            I miss Sirius._

_            Do you think you can get me out of this hellhole?_

_            Write me back._

_                                                                                                                                                            Harry_

            The corner of Remus's lips turned up in a faint smile, a faint, rather ironic smile. In what seemed like eons past, he remembered how Sirius would often compare Harry to James, jumping with glee whenever Harry outlined his latest escapade courtesy of his father's prized Invisibility Cloak. But Harry had recently changed, slowly, evolving from the James-like child he had been. 

_            James never grew up_, Remus mused. Even as an Auror, he had always found time to joke around and play his infamous pranks on some unsuspecting victim, much to the amusement of all, even Lily, despite the stern scoldings she would give him. You could see it in her soft green eyes— they always twinkled, brimming with laughter and her endless love for James. They had loved each other to death— no pun intended. It was almost mercy, as bitterly ironic as that would have been, that Voldemort killed them both that night. There was no telling how much of a wreck one of them would have become if only the other had died on that fateful night. James had depended on Lily for her quiet strength; Lily had depended on James for the light and warmth he had brought into her life. They had become one entity, almost. _Lily and James._

            But Harry… Remus shook his head slightly. He was different now. Sirius had once called him "a disgrace to James's memory"— and that night, Remus had been so furious that he had almost physically hurt him, a rare display of his normally cool rage that had only happened once before, when Sirius had almost turned him into a murderer in their seventh year at Hogwarts. Harry may have been different from his father, but by no means was he a disgrace. The things Harry had been put through had given him a sort of maturity— Lily's maturity— that James had never quite acquired. Harry understood risks. If he had consented to meeting Sirius at Hogsmeade, someone surely would have found out.

            But then Sirius would have been back in Azkaban, instead of being dead.

            Which was better?

            But no one could have foreseen Sirius's death— Harry had been right and justified in saying no. 

            Yet as Remus convinced himself this, he couldn't help feeling a selfish sense of loss and anger. _What if things had still gone the way they had gone? Could Sirius have been freed from Azkaban? Alive?_

            There was no answer. At least, no answer Remus wanted to hear, if he in fact wanted to hear any answer at all.

            Sirius had always been disappointed that Harry wasn't a clone of his father. He had missed James, had always missed James, ever since that fateful night. Remus had known of the quiet love Sirius had silently harbored for years— love in all manners of the word: as a friend, as a brother, and in some subconscious sense, as even more than that. It was hard to tell if Sirius consciously knew how far his love went. He'd never hit on James— of course not, their friendship and his playful affection for Lily would never have allowed such a thing— but it was always there, in his eyes, in his words, in his seemingly casual touches, in all the things he did and sacrificed for him. It was as plain as day to Remus.

            But then again, Remus had always been good at reading everyone's feelings.

            Everyone's except his own.

            James had been one of the most interesting people Remus had ever known— oh, sometimes he had been quite the insensitive prat with an ego the size of England, but otherwise, he was brilliant, gallant, charming, and unbelievably kind. His sense of humor was his most valuable possession— well, second to his dear old Invisibility Cloak, as James would often say with a wink.

            James was spontaneous, and loyal to the death to anyone he cared about. Remus remembered, with a clarity only possible from many re-visitations of the mind, the first time he had truly seen the hidden side of James.   

            It was in Gryffindor Tower, their second year, the day Remus had finally been able to return to classes after his grueling monthly transformation. He hadn't noticed much of a difference in Sirius, James, or Peter that day— there were a few odd looks exchanged between Sirius and James, but Remus had found no reason to make anything unusual of such a thing. They were just strange like that, sometimes. In Remus's mind, it had been a fairly normal day, like all those in the past year or so when he would "return from visiting a sick relative."

_            It was nearly midnight, and the Common Room was deserted except for the four Marauders, who were reclining in the chairs closest to the fire as they worked on the two-foot essay due in Transfiguration the next day. The only sounds in the room were the scratching of quills on parchment, the rustling of old pages as books were leafed through, and the crackling of flames as they danced in the hearth. Oh, of course, and the occasional muttered curses heard from the direction of either Sirius or James._

_            Remus was the first to complete his essay, since he'd already begun working on it a few hours before instead of procrastinating until the dead of night like the others. He put his materials away thankfully, rubbing his wrist and stifling a yawn that could have been, "Blasted essay." As he turned to head up the stairs to the boys' dorm, he added over his shoulder, grinning, "I can hear your beds calling to you... ooh, such plush covers, such soft pillows..." He laughed at the look on Sirius's face. "That's what you get for being lazy. G'night, you three."_

_            "Wait, wait, Remus, don't go yet." James pushed his essay aside for a moment and stretched, waving lazily to the chair Remus had just occupied. "Have a seat, old chap."_

_            There was a brief rustle of parchment as Sirius and Peter also put their essays away, and Remus hesitantly lowered himself back into his seat, eying James warily. From experience, he knew that the Cheshire Cat grin on James's face could only mean one thing— there was something going on in that scheming mind of his._

_            He didn't have too much time to anxiously ponder his fate when James spoke again. "So, Remus, how's Aunt Matilda?"_

            Damn. _Remus shifted nervously in his seat. "Erm… she's fine now. The doctor told me she was getting better before I left."_

_            "What was it that she had, again?" Sirius stroked his chin, a dramatically exaggerated move he'd taken to immensely after watching some Muggle movie over the summer. "The flu, was it?"_

_            Remus forced himself to nod, hoping he didn't appear as fidgety as he felt._

_            "Wait, I thought you said it was that funny new virus spreading around France..." Peter looked convincingly perplexed. Well, not that that was very surprising. _

_            "But I could have sworn Remus said it was scarlet fever, or something-fever…"_

_            "Really? I thought I heard Remmy say it was the flu before he left…"_

_            "Well, no matter." James flashed Remus an indulgent grin. "As long as she's okay, there's no sense in dwelling on whatever it was that she had. Hmm, Remus, did you get to see your other aunt? What's-her-name... oh, yes, Aunt Jenny?" _

_            Remus forced a grin. _What the hell was all this about? _"Yeah, she came to see Aunt Matilda the first day I was there."_

_            "And Grandma Adelaide?" Sirius leaned over, snatched James's glasses, and slid them on the tip of his nose, peering over the top rims at Remus. "Eh, boy, 'ow are yooooo?"_

_            Everyone laughed, and emboldened, Peter scooted forward on his chair excitedly. "And— and that cousin of yours? Mil— Millie? The one you said was really beau— beautiful?" Blushing furiously, Peter caught himself as he was about to fall off the edge of the chair._

_            Sirius snickered, and Remus pasted a grin on his face. "Erm, yeah, she came too." Shooting an amused look at Sirius, he couldn't help adding, "Sorry, Sirius, she's engaged." At Sirius's exaggeratedly crestfallen expression, he laughed. _This isn't too bad, _he thought._ It's like telling a story to little kids.__

_            James grinned, and then started to stroke his chin (a move copied from Sirius, of course). "Hmm, Remus, indulge me. It's so hard to keep track of your relatives, and I would be a very bad friend if I didn't know your family tree inside out. So, assuming you haven't turned sadistic all of a sudden and are trying to thoroughly embarrass me, do go through them all again, won't you?"_

_            Remus fidgeted. Why did he get the feeling that they were watching him abnormally closely? Maybe he wasn't becoming sadistic, as James feared, but rather, he had now become paranoid. Great. But still, he couldn't escape the unnerving feeling that they were up to something. "Erm…" He bit his lip, mind racing around in circles. It was worth a try, he supposed…Remus yawned. "Could we get back to this tomorrow? I'm tired, and you three have essays—"_

_            "No." Realizing that had come out a bit sharper than he'd intended, Sirius flashed Remus a grin. "C'mon, Remmy, don't be a spoilsport. Indulge poor Jamesie-boy here, you know how bad his memory is."_

_            "And yours is much better?" James shot back._

_            "Of course. You don't hear me asking Remus to spout off his family tree, do you?" Sirius grinned, the highly infuriating one he saved especially for situations like this._

_            Before James could bite off another reply, Peter squeaked, "Anyways—"_

_            "Right. Anyway. Remmy, do indulge us."_

_            Remus knew there was no way he was getting out of this, not by the looks on James and Sirius's faces. Nope, they were determined all right, and they wouldn't give up unless Gryffindor Tower started burning down. Or maybe not even that. He cleared his throat, reminding himself, _You're telling a story to a bunch of little kids. It's not that hard. _" Erm… well, there's Aunt Matilda and Uncle… Edward, and… Aunt Jenny—"_

_            "Wait, wasn't she from your dad's side?"_

            Shit._ "Ah, my dad has a sister named Jennifer too."_

_            "Oh... okay. And?"_

_            "Erm... Aunt Rose, and Uncle... John, and my cousins... Melissa, and Millie..."_

_            "All right, that's enough, we should stop being sadistic now." James sat up, no longer reclining lazy, his expression now serious. He studied Remus carefully for a moment, letting the silence hang tensely in the air. "Remus, you don't have an Aunt Matilda, an Uncle Edward, an Aunt Jenny, an Aunt Rose, an Uncle John, or cousins named Melissa and Matilda."_

_            "Yes I—"_

_            "And your relatives aren't always sick every month, when it just happens to be a **full moon**," Sirius cut in._

_            Remus sank back into his chair, knowing he was defeated. He never should have tried to hide it from them; they were too smart not to notice. Instead, if he had been wise, he should have stayed far, far away from them._ You never learn, do you, Remus? You can't assume all your friends will be forever oblivious. This is it._ He could not hide his shaking anymore. "Well, since all my relatives are made up, they can't exactly be sick, can they, Sirius?" he snapped._

_            Remus turned away and fastened his stony glance on the crackling flames, waiting for what was to come. "So now you know." His voice was emotionless, bitter. "Well?"_

_            James looked genuinely perplexed. "'Well' what?"_

_            Remus couldn't bring himself to say it aloud. _Are you daft? You got this far already. Do you need cues? This is when you say that you hate me, that you don't want to have anything to do with a **werewolf**. _The word tasted bitter in his mind._

_            His face must have betrayed his emotions, because James said gently, "Remus, d'you think we're going to desert you because of that? Honestly, what kind of friends would we be if we did?"  _

_            Remus stared at James. He looked sincere, but... it couldn't be. "You'd be normal ones. Normal people who want nothing to do with a werewolf. Really, I don't blame you—"_

_            Sirius snorted. "'Normal'? Us? Dear Remmy, how on earth could you have gotten that bloody ridiculous of an idea?" He grinned. "And why would you blame us? We haven't done anything wrong, nor have you."_

_            Peter jumped in. "But seriously, Remus," he said, his voice sounding as earnestly frenzied as it always did when his mind crept faster than his mouth could coherently speak, "you're our friend. Werewolf or not."_

_            "And we'll do whatever it takes to help you." James held up a book. "When I went to the library, guess what I happened to find?_

_            It was thick, slightly tarnished book with a dark red cover that gleamed in the firelight. _Animagus Transformations_, but Shifty Corpusti._

_            "We can't be with you as humans when you transform, but we can as animals. It'll be hard, but we'll try, Remus, we'll all try."_

_            Remus looked at them unbelievingly. James, Sirius, and Peter nodded, their faces honest. When he had finally convinced himself they really meant it, that they really weren't going to desert him, his composure broke and he whispered hoarsely, "Thanks, mates. I really mean it." He started to get teary-eyed, wiping his eyes embarrassedly._

_            On the other hand... "Sentimental-alert! Group hug!!" whooped Sirius as he leaped onto Remus unabashedly, followed by an amused James and Peter._

_            Then the clock struck one, and Remus emerged from the pile of bodies, laughing. (And also saving some Gryffindors the trauma of witnessing what might appear to be something... I'll leave that to the happy reader's imagination, shall I?) "Hear any half-finished essays calling, anyone?"_

_            As if on cue, a barrage of pillows immediately flew threw the air at Remus, who couldn't quite duck fast enough. Sirius and James grinned as they slapped each other high-fives, crowing over their beautiful aim. Of course, this meant they were distracted, an opportunity Remus immediately took advantage of to fire the pillows right back at them._

_            Amidst their indignant shouts, Remus gathered his things, not quite able to stifle the yawns trying to escape. He waved cheekily. "Your essays are getting quite lonely, it seems. Meanwhile, my lovely bed awaits me." Remus yawned again, pretending not to see the dirty looks Sirius and James shot him and reminding himself to check his bed for any slimy objects in the morning. "G'night!"_

            He headed up the stairs, smiling, happier than he'd ever been in his whole life.

            Despite the tears and the hollow despair that finding Sirius's dog bowl had brought on, Remus managed to smile fondly at the memory. He remembered having had his head lost among the clouds for days after that, still somewhat unbelieving, almost sure it was a dream. But it had been real, and his years at Hogwarts had been the best of his life.

            It was after graduation that things began to fall apart. For reasons then unknown to him, his friends had slowly begun to distance themselves. They had still kept in touch, but not as often, and soon their contact had begun to appear forced. The loss of his friends had brought on a period of depression that had seemed to stretch on forever, and Remus had passed lonely days, then weeks, then months, and then years, alone in his cottage. His lycanthropy had prevented him having a steady, respectable job, so he took whatever work he could find, both to earn enough money to survive and to take his mind off the desertion of his friends.

            And then Lily and James had been killed, sold to Lord Voldemort by their Secret-Keeper. The many years following that had been confusing, painfully confusing. It had only been two years ago that things had changed for Remus. He found out the reason for his friends' slow desertion— they had believed him to be the spy. He found out that it hadn't been Sirius who'd betrayed Lily and James— a thought that had hurt him for so many years, the questions of _Why, Sirius? How could you?_ lying unanswered but unwilling to go away. Instead, it had been Pettigrew, the weak, sniveling whiner. And he found Sirius again, the only one else left standing of what had once been dubbed The Marauders, the elite that had once graced Hogwarts's halls.

            The first time in years that he had seen Sirius in person had been in the Shrieking Shack that night, at the end of Harry's third year. It had been a shock, bursting into the room and seeing the walking corpse Sirius had become. For minutes, Remus had balanced precariously on a spider's thread, not yet knowing what to believe about Sirius and the last thirteen years. But then the embrace had decided it all for him, the indescribable feelings that had flooded through him when he and Sirius had embraced for the first time since their graduation so many years before. He had never realized how much he had missed Sirius, how much Sirius had meant to his life, until their eyes met that night and the pain Remus thought to be eternal vanished, replaced instead with indescribable joy. Joy, and love. Love, in all manners of the word: as a friend, as a brother, and perhaps as something more, a kind of love Remus had never known.

            Remus had always been adept at reading everyone's feelings.

            Everyone's except his own.  

            Love was a strange thing, he mused. It tended to creep up on you and entwine itself into your mind, into the deepest level of your subconscious. Then it would just lie there, biding its time, like a hunter waiting for its prey. It would wait for the right moment to strike, to fully reveal itself in all its glory, to wrap itself so firmly around your heart that you never thought it would let go.

            For Remus, that moment was frozen in time, to be remembered with horrifying clarity for the rest of his life.

            He would never forget the look on Sirius's face when the curse hit him, the look as he fell through the archway, disappearing behind the fluttering black veil.

            He could hear his own hollow voice telling Harry— telling himself— that Sirius was gone.

            Gone.

            I never had the chance to say, "I love you."  Though I doubt I really would have, because knowing you, you would have just stared at me oddly, thinking I was drunk or under the Imperius Curse, and made a joke of it. That would have shattered my heart. It was better to keep it to myself, so I suffered alone. I didn't want pity, nor did I want our friendship to become awkward. Friendship was all we had, and I doubt you had any idea of how much it meant to me. It was all I could hope for, and as it turned out, all that would ever be.

            I don't know if I truly accepted it before— that I loved you, I mean. I guess I sort of knew, but since it was obvious from the beginning that it was hopeless, I tried to let you go. I never thought of it... okay, that's a lie. Rather, I never consciously made the conclusion to myself that I loved you, because it hurt too much, and I was afraid. It amazes me that I actually managed to keep everything at bay for so many years. But when I looked at the fluttering black veil in the archway and realized you were gone, there was no reason for me to stay quiet any longer, I guess. I had the sudden urge to break down and cry, and tell you— wherever you were— that I loved you.

            But I couldn't. I knew I had to stay strong— if not for my own dignity, then for Harry. Everyone probably thought I was cold-bloodedly indifferent to your death, but there was nothing I could do. If only they knew.

            I'm sorry, Sirius. Padfoot. Brother.

            I love you.

            Remus finally drifted off to a troubled sleep a few hours before dawn, slumped against his kitchen wall and enveloped in darkness. Sirius's dog bowl had once again found its way into his hands, clutched so tightly that it seemed Remus feared he would wake up and find it was all a dream, that the memory of Sirius would fade away to a hollow nothingness if he let go. 

            It would destroy him if it did. If Remus no longer had the one thing that meant the most to him, his life would sink to a state hardly worth living: painful, miserable beyond belief. But nor could he end it all. He had to stay for Harry. For James. They were different, but they were... the same. When he looked at Harry, he would see James; when he looked into Harry's eyes, he would see Lily. He couldn't betray them yet again. 

            As if echoing this thought, Remus's hands tightened, clenching the dog bowl in white-knuckled fists.

            It was a subconscious move, done unknowingly in his sleep. As icy tendrils began to creep through his body, he curled up into a small ball, a futile effort to keep warm. As he brought his arms up to nestle against his chest, the dog bowl settled snugly against his heart.

            The room was dark, shadowed and cold. Objects were almost indistinguishable, seemingly fading away, except for the faint outline that could be glimpsed if one really tried.

            But there was one thing that could be clearly seen, perhaps by a miracle of the light and the moon. A miracle, or cruel fate.

            It was the silver-etched name of Snuffles, seemingly branded into Remus Lupin's heart.    


End file.
